Angels In Exile
by Queen Of Dead Hearts
Summary: The human mind is capable of making a heaven out of hell, and a hell out of heaven


**Chapter One:**

"Gwen . . . Gwen? Gwen!"

I didn't offer up a response, content to just listen to the voice as it neared. She'd find me on her own eventually. Sure enough, moments later, the front door opened and there stood Caroline, my mother for all intents and purposes, a phone pressed up against her chest.

"There you are," she stage whispered as a smile danced across her lips, "Bobby's on the phone."

I paused for a long moment, considering. "Tell him I'm not home."

Her smile dimmed. "Don't you want to talk to him?"

I shrugged. "I'm busy."

She gave me a once over, no doubt noting the fact that I was outwardly unoccupied. "Doing what?"

"Thinking," I said, tilting my head back and letting my fair hair hang over the arm of the chair.

In response, Caroline sighed a world weary sigh and put the phone back to her ear. Voice bright as ever she said, "Bobby? Yeah, Gwen's not here right now. But I'd be more than happy to take a message . . . . . Mhm. Okay. I'll tell her as soon as she gets back . . . You're welcome. Okay, have a nice day Bobby."

I rolled my eyes at her pleasantries, fiddling idly with the ring on my finger as she ended the call. "Now what was all that about?" she asked, "I thought you liked Bobby."

"I do," I said mildly, noticing how the stones on my ring caught the sunlight, causing rainbows to dance around the air.

"Then why didn't you want to talk to him?" She seemed totally perplexed.

I sighed, lifting my head upright. Apparently this was going to require some explaining. "It's not that I didn't _want _to talk to him," I extrapolated, "I just had more important things to worry about."

"Like?" she urged.

I paused for a moment, letting my eyes scour the cheery landscape that was my front yard and the front yards of my neighbors. "Like that guy."

She followed my gaze to where, across the street, an attractive young man who couldn't be a day over thirty was walking a bulky chocolate lab.

Caroline turned her attention back to me, giving me an expectant look. "What about that guy?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I wonder what his name is . . . He looks like an Anthony, don't you think?"

"So you blew off Bobby so you could sit on the porch and people watch?" she clarified, seeming to find this an unsuitable excuse.

I shrugged and let my head loll back over the arm of the chair. "Pretty much."

She sighed in clear vexation. "Well Bobby wanted me to tell you that he's going to pick you up a little bit earlier tonight. So be ready by eight. That is . . . if you still want to go."

I paused for a few deliberate seconds. "Ask me in an hour."

Carolina mumbled something unintelligible under her breath before the sound of the front door closing signaled she'd retreated back into the house.

Grateful for the recapture of my solitude, I let my eyelids flutter. They weren't fully closed; just lowered enough that the only thing I could really see were my eye lashes and the way they sparkled in the sunlight. It was spectacular.

Hearing the chirpings of a bird, I began to hum along in a similar tone that eventually morphed into its own song entirely. Getting lost in the verses, I began to twirl a piece of hair around my finger. Peace settled over me like a blanket as I reveled in the feel of the sun's warmth on my face and the comforting sounds of quiet suburbia around me.

Thoughts began to swirl around in my head, like two Flamenco performers entangled in dance. It was hard to tell where one thought ended and another began. Daydreams blended into fantasies and fantasies morphed into wishes, but then my thoughts took a detour towards reality, forcing me to acknowledge my regrets about blowing off Bobby – which then led to fantasies about Bobby. Fantasies, in which, Bobby whisked me away for a nocturnal picnic where we'd make love under the stars with nature surrounding us as we became one in body and soul . . .

"Gwen!"

Slowly, I emerged from my trance, blinking at the intruder. Standing in front of me, wearing a tutu over her Minnie Mouse t-shirt and jean shorts, with a tiara adorning her head of brown curls was my adoptive sister, Beth, in all her four year old glory.

"Yes Beth," I said lightly.

"Were you sleeping?" she demanded, her brash voice a sharp admonishment to my mild tone.

"No. I was thinking," I explained.

"What were you thinking about?" She interrogated me further.

I considered telling her the truth, but last time I'd done that, she'd gone around repeating the word _"orgasm" _for a week. So I decided to take Caroline's advice about how _"honesty is not _always_ the best policy." _

I didn't agree.

"Stuff," I answered carefully, letting a small smile play across my lips. I considered that a very diplomatic response. I'd avoided any unnecessary trouble without actually lying.

"Oh," she said, blinking her big brown eyes at me, "Well stop, cause it's dinner time. So hurry up!" With that, she whacked me over the head with her princess wand before wobbling inside at top speed.

"Dinner?" I mumbled to myself, rubbing my head as I straightened up. I looked around, and sure enough the summer sun was just beginning its daily downward descent. I'd been out here longer than I realized.

I rolled my neck, working out the kinks as I made my way inside. Once I crossed the threshold I was assaulted by cool, conditioned air. Goosebumps made themselves at home on my sun kissed skin, causing a shiver to slither down my spine.

I latched a hand onto the back of my neck, massaging the muscles there as I trekked, barefoot, into the kitchen – nesting place of chaos. Small children ran rampant while older ones helped with the assembly of dishes. Voices, clanks, mewls, and clinks melted together into a sea of nameless noise.

I padded over to the table and took a seat. I was left alone for the most part, proof that there is a merciful God. It could only last so long though; soon Hank, my sort of father, came trouncing in from the patio in a billow of smoke with platefuls of barbequed food. At the sight of it, everybody swarmed around the table like half-starved jackals – snatching food and passing condiments. I hung back until a bit of the insanity dimmed before taking a single hot dog, adorning it with only ketchup.

Of course, now that the meal had actually begun, I was expected to participate in dinner time discussions. It wasn't something I necessarily minded; it all depended on the subject manner. For example, my love life was not an approved topic of discussion. Not that anybody respected that rule.

"Hey Gwen, don't you have a date tonight with Bobby?"

I looked up at my sister Janice, well adoptive sister. Any bystander off the street could tell that we weren't biologically related. With her tinted skin, almond shaped eyes, and pin straight ebony hair – she was a far cry from being a blood relative of mine.

"To the best of my knowledge," I mumbled, taking a bite out of my hot dog.

"Where're you two going?" Caroline asked with parental interest and motherly excitement.

I shrugged. "A movie."

"Ooh, what're you gonna wear?" Janice probed further.

"I haven't decided yet," I said. My mind drifted to my closet, sorting through garments and possible outfits. After discerning what clothes I knew the whereabouts of, I had to figure out which ones I'd worn recently. It was going to be an involved process.

"Gwen."

"Hmm?" I asked, snapping out of my reverie and focusing on Caroline.

"I asked what movie you were seeing."

"Oh. I don't know. Bobby picked it." I said in an offhand manner, "I'm more excited for afterward."

"Ooh are you two gonna kiss?" tittered eight year old Mia, scandalized by the mere thought.

I was about to respond but someone else beat me to the punch. "They kiss all the time," sneered the sixteen year old royal pain, Ryan, with a roll of his eyes, "It's gross."

"Ew!" Mia squealed while Vinnie, her senior by four years, made a face.

Caroline laughed. "So what happens afterward?"

"We're going down by the pier," I said, dreamy wonder clear in my voice.

"Oh, you know what _that_ means," Ryan said, making an obscene gesture with his hands. Caroline smacked his wrist reproachfully.

"We'll have none of that young man," Hank said, breaking his vow of silence.

Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes while Caroline took the baton. "You have protection right?" she stage whispered.

"Yes," I said, not even bothering to point out that that wasn't exactly a part of the agenda for tonight. It wasn't worth the effort to explain. If I had a normal family that got all twitchy over the thought of unwed teenagers having sex, I would have taken the time to diffuse the situation. But it wasn't like anyone in my family was mortified by this prospect. I still recalled the time Hank, Caroline, Janice, Ryan, and I had sat in the living room and told stories of our first times. I wasn't sure if our lack of pretenses was due to the fact that none of us were biologically related or it was a result of our down to earth personalities.

"What time is he picking you up?" Janice asked, and miraculously, I registered her question the first time she said it.

"Eight thirty."

"No," Caroline corrected, "He's coming at eight. Remember, he called to tell you that."

"Oh shit," I said, recalling as my eyes flashed to the clock on the oven. It was six forty, "I need to go get ready."

Finishing up my hot dog hastily, I downed some coke and got to my feet. Not bothering to put my plate away, I headed for the stairs. Once on the second level, I fully immersed myself in the primping process. I took a decent length shower, making sure to remove all unwanted hair from my body and to use the special watermelon shampoo that Bobby liked. Once I was done, I threw on my silky black and pink kimono. I spent a good five minutes working the tangles out of my blonde hair before I began blow drying it – which took a good half an hour. My phone, where it rested on the counter, flashed the time at me tauntingly. 7:44. Little more than fifteen minutes left and I still hadn't decided on an outfit.

I made my way into my bedroom and began tearing apart my closet. It took me a solid ten minutes but I eventually decided on a casual little navy dress with orange buttons up the front and a matching bow around the waist. Just as I'd finished shimmying into my special occasion panties, just in case, and matching bra – the doorbell rang.

Instead of hurrying, I slowed down my primping. I was already late – what did it matter at this point? I took my sweet time pulling on my dress and slipping into my orange flip flops. I brushed on my makeup with a flourish – but that was typical for me. I decorated my lids in gold and outlined my eyes in black, painting my cheeks with rouge, and smearing my lips with gloss.

I sprayed on some perfume, humming to myself contently before locating my purse and shoving my phone and wallet inside. I looked around my room, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I was just about to leave when I remembered Caroline's advice about protection. With a sigh, I grabbed some condoms out of my dresser drawer and put them in my purse. If we ended up reenacting some scenes from the Kama Sutra tonight, I had no doubt that Bobby would have protection, but there was no harm in being careful.

I approached the top of the stairs and caught sight of Bobby standing by the door, conversing with Caroline. The moment I came into view his gaze snapped to mine and he smiled. I smiled back.

Caroline must have noticed the shift in Bobby's attention and followed his gaze up to me. "Finally," she said jovially, "We were beginning to think you'd run away."

"Doesn't that seem a little unlikely?" I asked as I began descending, "You know, given that I was on the second floor."

Bobby's smile grew exponentially at that. "I wouldn't be surprised if _you_ managed to shimmy down the drainpipe."

I gave him a little sneer as I reached the ground. "Droll," I told him in a rare exhibition of sarcasm.

He only smirked as he enveloped me in his arms, kissing me gently on the mouth, which was unusual for him. I soon realized his reservations were due to the fact that Caroline was a spectator to our union of lips. He pulled away without delay, giving further evidence to the theory that public displays of affection in front of my mother figure made him fidgety. I suppose I couldn't begrudge him his hesitations.

That didn't mean I had to understand them though. After all, Caroline was hardly the sort that made people uncomfortable. Even now, she was smiling fondly at us, not the least bit bothered by the kiss, and rightfully so.

"So, I hear tonight's a special night," she said.

Hooking an arm around my shoulders, Bobby grinned. It was his default facial expression. "Yes ma'am," he said cheerily, "It's our one month anniversary."

"Funny. I wasn't aware we were going out," I murmured.

They laughed, mistakenly assuming I was being sarcastic. "Well you two go have fun," Caroline shepherded us out the door, "And be sure you take care of my little angel."

"Don't worry," I said as we descended the porch, "He'll be safe with me."

I could hear her laughter as the door shut. "I believe she was talking to me," Bobby said.

I shrugged lightly. "We'll never know now."

The following car ride passed in a flurry of Bobby chattering on endlessly and me nodding like I was listening. But really, I tuned him out for the most part; it was necessary for maintaining my sanity. Bobby talked so much, it would require a staggering attention span to process all of it and I just didn't have the endurance for it.

I was actually grateful he'd decided to take me to a movie tonight, because it was the one time he shut up. Once those lights went down, Bobby went mute. He was a real cinema freak who couldn't bear the thought of missing an important aspect of the plot due to idle chatter.

I, on the other hand, was unsure of what the movie had even been about as the lights turned back on. I'd occupied the previous hour enjoying the candy I'd purchased and making frequent trips to acquire more. When I was in the theater though, my mind had drifted off to Bobby. Since he was being quiet, it was much easier to appreciate his good looks; like his boyish, tanned features or his sun bleached blondish brown hair. I'd spent most of the movie running my fingers through those curls while I thought fondly of the later festivities.

After making the drive out to the lake, which was a trip filled with Bobby prattling about the movie I hadn't been paying attention to, we parked in the deserted lot just a few feet from the lake.

I immediately climbed out of the car, leaving Bobby midsentence. Once outside, I was able to take in the lake's nocturnal beauty. Stunning mountains created the backdrop for the lake while croaking frogs and hooting owls provided the soundtrack. The lake stretched on endlessly; the starry night reflected back by its pristine surface.

Impulsively, I left the lot to cross the patch of grass and sand to get to the river bed. I knelt down and stared into the lake's star dotted depths.

"Look Bobby," I said, dunking my finger in and watching the ripples distort the twinkling lights, "I'm touching the sky."

For once, he didn't say anything. The only sound was of his nearing laugh as he approached me. I didn't look up, just continued to swirl my finger through the warm water, creating little figure eights. I could feel his presence behind me drawing nearer, until he was crouched beside me. The intoxicating scent of him filled the space between us, making my head spin. He smelled like pine, cologne, and just a little bit of sweat. It was all around a pleasant aroma.

"You're extraordinary Gwen," he said unexpectedly in a low, reverent tone, like someone paying homage to a deity.

"I can't _really_ touch the sky Bobby," I said, rolling my eyes, "I was just kidding."

He laughed again, a pleasant sound. "I know that," he said without a drop of defensiveness. "That's not what I was talking about."

"Well then what _were_ you talking about?" I asked, continuing to create patterns in the water.

"You," he said and that same low, intense tone returned to his tone, "You're just . . . incredible. Unlike anyone I've ever met before. You're not just smart or beautiful – you're . . . different. So, so different. You're selfless . . . and unpretentious and unpredictable . . . You know, I didn't believe in God until I met you. You're just so . . . mysterious and . . . otherworldly; I mean, if there are angels like you there has to be a God. You're like a supernova – you just consume everything around you. Where there's darkness, you are the light. I . . . I love you "

I was silent, my eyes focused on the ripples created in the water. To say I was surprised would have been inaccurate. Declarations of love weren't exactly uncommon for me. I seemed to have this unintentional effect on teenage boys.

"I love you too," I said mildly, not looking up.

"Really?" he said, his voice surprised but subdued, as if he was afraid to get his hopes up.

"Sure," I said pleasantly, turning to look him in the eye. He had the most ecstatic smile on his face, his big eyes sparkling with relief like I'd just lifted a huge weight off his shoulders.

Still grinning, he tackled me gently to the ground, pinning me underneath him in the sandy bank. I giggled as he hovered over me, still smiling grandly.

"I can't tell you how great it is to hear you say that," he said, looking down at me affectionately. His happiness was contagious and I smiled up at him. His dark eyes shining with intensity and reflected moonlight, he began to caress the side of my face with the back of his hand, his tender touch implying that he thought of me as fragile and delicate. He should've known I was neither.

In one quick motion, I reached up and grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head down to mine. Our lips greeted each other with passion as they reunited in a heated union. We were kissing to a feverish, wild beat, but that was typical for teenagers. Hormones would be to blame; forever the callous task masters of bad choices.

While his hands were occupied with keeping himself up right, mine were free to roam. I let them trail through his silky locks and over the toned muscles of his back, despite the clothing barrier. It wasn't long before that barrier seemed more like a moat – cruelly separating me from my goal.

Hooking my legs around his waist, I rolled us over so that he was lying beneath me; his light curls contrasting with the grass in the loveliest fashion. Our mouths only separated for a moment before reuniting with a glorious flourish of desperation.

His guttural moans and my breathy ones composed the soundtrack of our copulation. His hands roved up the sides of my smooth, bare legs; exploring up under my dress. His apt fingers caressed my thighs in a teasing, tantalizing rhythm.

"I love you," he murmured breathily, separating my mouth from his momentarily.

"I love you too," I said in between the kisses I had begun to pepper his jawline with.

"Those other guys," he said in a gasping voice, "You never loved them, did you?"

I knew he was looking for an ego boost, but I was too stupid to just lie to him. "Yes I did," I said quietly, continuing to decorate the underside of his jaw with my love bites – even as I felt his body tense underneath me.

"Not all of them though," he said. It didn't sound like a question – more like a fact he wanted me to confirm.

"No," I corrected, "I did."

That was too much for him apparently because he told me to stop. I complied, pausing in my nipping to stare into his big eyes. There was an emotion in them that I could not place, but it was clear to me that he was upset.

"You loved _all_ those guys?" he demanded.

"You make it sound like so many," I said mildly. It had only been three. Just three.

"Answer the question."

"Yes," I said, not at all ashamed and refusing to pretend to be.

"Even Paul?"

"Of course," I said, surprised.

"Do you still love him?" he asked.

"Yes . . ." I said, confused by his interrogation. Just five minutes ago everything had been perfectly fine.

"You're still in love with your ex!" he demanded heatedly, throwing me off of him. I landed on my back in the sand without so much as a sound. I sat up, but made no move to stand, even as Bobby got to his feet.

"I'm not _in_ love with him," I said mildly, "I just love him."

"What? Like you _just_ love me?" he shouted, his voice unnecessarily loud.

"I love you a little more . . ." I offered, hoping this would appease him. It didn't.

"So you lied?" He sounded betrayed.

"I never lied," I said firmly, my voice steeling. I never lied. Not to Bobby – not to anyone.

"You said you were in love with me!" he yelled, anger etched clearly on his face, "But you aren't!"

"I do love you though," I pointed out, refusing to be intimidated by his anger, but hurt by it nonetheless. I really did love him – as I did so many others.

"It's not the same," he snarled, pacing like a lion in a zoo.

"I don't see why not," I mumbled.

"Because _Gwendolyn _being _in_ love means that you think I'm the only for you. It means you feel the same way about me as I do about you," he said, his voice a wounded growl, "Loving me though . . . It just means you care about me. Like a friend."

"I love you more than my other friends," I said softly.

"_Other friends?"_ he repeated, first with shock and then with anger, "Other friends? So you think of me as just a friend?" He lowered his voice a little, laughing once bitterly. "My own girlfriend thinks of me as just a friend, how sad is that?"

"I never knew I was your girlfriend," I pointed out to him.

He stopped in his pacing to stare at me with hard, cold eyes. "We were dating for a month Gwen, it was implied. Hell, it was obvious."

"Well apparently," I said, my voice growing less subdued with annoyance, "Not to me."

"Well maybe you'd notice more stuff like that if you spent some time in the real world instead of spending all your time in _Gwen World. _Oh, you know Gwen World right? That place in your head that you go to when you're tuning me, and the rest of the universe, out. It must be pretty fucking wonderful – seeing as you spend all your god damn time in there. You just _love_ it there don't you?"

I remained silent, astonished by his explosion. No more than twenty minutes ago he'd been selling my splendors, treating me as if I was his divine salvation. And now he was acting like I would be his downfall.

"That's really who you're in love with," he snarled, tears springing in his eyes, "_Yourself_!"

With that fervent accusation, he stalked away, kicking things as he went. I watched, stunned, as he got into his car, slamming the door and driving off; uncaring to the fact that it was dark and he knew I had no way of getting home.

As his taillights disappeared in the distance a dreadful feeling settled over me; a familiar melancholy. I just couldn't escape the bitterness that stirred within me. I'd always been so fanatical about love, about how it was our saving grace, about how without love we were nothing.

"_Well look what your precious love has done now," _a nasty voice inside my head nagged. It was right though. I'd tried to keep my spirit pure by retaining love for my former lovers; despite what had passed between us. I'd been convinced that hating them would only cause negative, unconstructive energy to stir within me.

Well, loving them had proved as destructive as hating them. Bobby was living proof. But . . . I couldn't just stop loving them. They were parts of me. No matter our fallouts, they'd contributed to making me the person I am today. There would always be a spot in my heart for them. Just like there would always be a spot for my real mother, despite all she'd done to me. I just couldn't force myself to stop loving them, and I couldn't force Bobby to be okay with it – just like I wouldn't be able to force any other guys who came along.

The fact had to be faced. Men are competitive. It doesn't matter how much they love you; if you won't be there's completely, they won't have you at all.

"_Well you've got your love," _nagged the bitter voice, "_What else have you got to show for it?" _

Staring into the black water, I knew the answer. I twirled my fingers into the water listlessly, thinking not of how I planned to get home, or how dangerous it was out here by myself at night. No, all I could think about was the answer to my own question.

Nothing. I had nothing to show for it. Absolutely nothing.


End file.
